Shush, Pay Attention
by huskies4EVER
Summary: Intellectual!America volunteers to watch the detention room while the teacher goes out for an emergency or something. Badass!Canada happens to be the only student in detention that afternoon


I wanted to write an Americest fanfic... though I didn't know what to write. I just knew I wanted Intellectual!America and Badass!Canada in it. Though it seems that I failed anyways. It's not very coherent nor pretty or fluffy or dark. It's nothing. It's in between and it's average and it sucks. This is a one-shot... because it is. So there. Deal with it. Deal with my current, snarky personality. I'm sick and I'm tired and this is my way to cope. ANYWAYS. This is what the challenge/request/plot is:

_Intellectual!America volunteers to watch the detention room while the teacher goes out for an emergency or something. Badass!Canada happens to be the only student in detention that afternoon~_

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Hetalia. Nor the plot. Credits to TM Ardith for the plot. All I own is the capacity to hear the melodies of the words... though I suppose you can do that too.

Enjoy.

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><p>Alfred F. Jones didn't really want to watch over the detention classroom. It just so happened that it happened. He couldn't really blame his teacher for his wife's pregnancy either. Or maybe he could. Because it was well-known through the school halls and bathrooms that said teacher was, one, gay. And second, single. Which made everyone quite sure that he was just trying to run away to the bar earlier than usual.<p>

Nevertheless, despite the knowledge of that and many other things, Alfred found him raising his hand eagerly when the teacher asked if anyone could watch over detention after school. Well, maybe that was because the teacher was begging and not asking. Alfred had to admit, it made his chest ache when he saw a man to his knees like that.

N-Not in the perverted, Frenchman sense of the word though. No, ew, Alfred wasn't like that anyways. He still liked girls. Anyhow, the thing was that Alfred, this handsome glasses-bearing blond, had a deep obsession for vulnerable, helpless people. A hero-complex as some of his friends said, mocking him about it every chance they got. Well, just they wait and see when he would become famous and heroic!

And so, he was walking down the hallways in long strides with a novel in his arms to help pass the time. A pen and paper too, to jot down the names of the naughty children. The American paused in front of the thin door of the classroom, pushing up his glasses in an "I'm much smarter than you and you know it" sort of way, before entering. To his slight surprise, there was only one student.

And to the student's surprise, there was quite an attractive male instead of an old gramps. Alfred took the time to settle himself down and observe the other. The other was... the type of person Alfred thought would never get into the detention room. He was so... nice-looking. Soft, wavy blond hair that trickled silkily to his chin and clear, violet eyes as well as other delicate features: how the hell did this kid get here?

"Hello," Alfred greeted, "The teacher is busy tod-"

"Again?" came the other. Alfred found his voice to be pleasantly gentle and melodic... though the words coming out of those effeminate lips were anything but sweet, "Man, what creative excuse has he come up with this fu-"

"Language," Alfred retorted, frowning.

"This maple-ing time?" continued the boy, though not without shooting Alfred a look of disdain and "you're weird". Alfred completely ignored the glare though, instead starting to laugh. Maple... ing? How did that kid think of that in the first place...? Alfred couldn't contain the strings of snickers, though none of them meant true harm. It was just... too funny... Innocently so.

Hell, this kid should be on stage, not in an isolated classroom. Suddenly, the laughter faded into a frown. What had this innocent-looking blond done to get here in the first place? It was so... unfitting. Maybe this boy wasn't as nice as he seemed: probably a wolf in sheep disguise. Which was kind of pathetic actually... As his father had once told him: he should mingle with these type of crowds since they would only pull him down.

The boy in detention, named Matthew Williams though everyone usually just forgot his name, was quite confused at his supervisor's mood-changes. What was he, a woman on her period? One moment, he was laughing half-hysterically for no cause at all... and the next, Matthew was given the cold shoulder. What the maple, man? Fine, whatever. It wasn't like Matthew cared.

Blowing the ever-so annoying curl out of his face, Matthew sprawled all over the desk and contented with watching the seconds tick past. It was long. And awfully boring since the only sounds in the room were his breathing, the supervisor's breathing, the clock, and the sound of the pages of the other's novel being flipped. Though, not as boring as it usually was. Watching his supervisor's changing expressions was interesting, Matthew observed. Every single plot twist in the book was apparently shown.

And this was fascinating because from what Matthew knew, Alfred was nicknamed "Cold American Beauty". Always maintained a calm state of mind, it was like he had a stick up his rear or something. Then again, his father was an annoying uptight British man. So it wasn't surprising that the American Beauty was the way he was. Always studying... huh. Maybe Matthew should teach him a few moves...

No. That was ridiculous. Matthew knew very well that his type of people and the American Beauty's type of people didn't mingle. How could they were the more posh ones were always sneering at those who was robbed and ransacked by poverty. It wasn't like Matthew had any other option other than to join the gang to get some food and money.

Blowing his curl out of his face again, those lavender eyes gazed at his supervisor intensely. "You're stupid, aren't you?" asked Matthew suddenly, though it was clearly rhetorical since the boy continued on without waiting for shocked American Beauty's recovery, "I don't mean that you don't know a lot of school-ish stuff. Studying seems like the only thing you people do... I just mean that you look like the type of idiot that would get pickpocket and never know."

Alfred didn't even hesitate a second to retort: "You seem like angelic type that is really not so underneath. You're unstable and indecisive. You're scared and hiding behind your Momma's back."

That shut the Canadian boy up for a moment, and Alfred smiled victoriously though he felt a twinge of heated guilt. Those sorrowful, bitter eyes... no, no, it was just an act. Just an act, just an act. Though even if it was, Alfred still felt his heartstrings behind pulled at. With a strangled sigh, the straight-As student closed his book shut and made way to the Canada's seat, situated at the very back of the classroom.

"Sorry..." mumbled America, feeling the need to apologize though honestly, it was the other who started it. But he was the mature one here after all, right? Right?

Matthew stared warily and then spat out: "You expect me to do the same or what?"

Alfred kept standing there, locking gazes with those justice-loving blue eyes of his. Finally, Matthew cracked and sighed. "Fine, I apologize too. Happy now, salaud?"

"Sa... laud?" wondered Alfred. Was that some kind of French term or something? Apparently, yes, since Matthew replied a dry: "Sa. Laud. Now go away."

But Alfred was planted there. Matthew could tell that it would stay that way until his detention ended. Maple... he kind of wished the originally supervisor was back. Wait, no. That gramps always stared at him weirdly, anyways. With a sigh, Matthew gestured to the seat next to him. "Sit down if you absolutely insist on annoying me," said the Canadian and Alfred exploded into a full-out triumphant grin to which Matthew huffed at.

"So..." Alfred started nervously, pushing up his slipping glasses in his attempt to strike a conversation, "What's... up?"

"The ceiling, lame-o."

"Come on, it wasn't that lame! At least I tried!" protested America, hands going up as if that could defend him. "I mean, Arthur's jokes are lame but-"

"You think they are too?" asked Matthew, eyes lighting up in amusement. Okay, maybe the American Beauty wasn't a hopeless idiot after all. A smirk was tugging at those amazing lips, a devilish idea pulling at the boy's mind. They were the only one here after all... As if to whisper a secret to the other, Matthew wangled his finger, motioning for the other blond to come over. And the American Beauty complied.

Imagine his shock when he received a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Whoa man, I don't swing that way!" exclaimed Alfred, reeling back with a hand rubbing against his lips. What the hell?

"Try telling that the whole school," scoffed Matthew, "They all know."

Shock passed through those blue eyes and the Canadian held by a sly smirk. "T-They know?" Alfred whispered out hoarsely.

"Yup," agreed Matthew to the lie. His tone was whole-hearted at that, the lewd actor.

"Liar."

Matthew couldn't help but gape like a fish out of water upon watching the American's transformation. Eyes hidden by the reflects in his glasses, there was something sinister about the other. Dangerous, a wolf. Matthew shuddered, hearing the chair clatter and his back painfully hitting the floor as he was attacked with another kiss. "I know: I'm just irresistible, ain't I?"

Matthew wanted to object... but didn't. The heat of the kiss flowed through him and gave him meaning like he never felt like before. If Gilbert, that Prussian gang leader, was here, Matthew bet that he would call it sappy and cheesy. But somehow, this feeling felt more real than anything the Canadian had felt in a long time. Growling back, not wanting to lose to a guy who had a stick up his ass, Matthew pressed back into the American.

Sadly, it was Matthew who ran out of breath first. Yet, to make sure that he wouldn't be the woman of this newfound relationship (if one could call it that), small teeth pressed into Alfred's lips to let out a small flow of blood. Swollen and now coated with a thin sheen of blood, both lips drew away in pants and huffs. Maybe this was a one-night stand. Maybe not. It didn't matter much to Matthew though, and Alfred didn't care either.

They were close for a split second, exchanging heartbeats for a short instant, before Matthew pushed Alfred off to prove to an invisible entity that he was capable and not a child. "Hey," piped up Matthew, licking his lips as if he could conserve the strange flavour of the other, "What's your name, salaud?" And Alfred felt a smile form at his face. "Alfred. What's yours, kiddo?"

Matthew scowled. Kiddo? "I'm the same age as you. You're definitely not a teacher... plus, I'm in your class." America raised an eyebrow. Well. It wasn't his fault the other looked so young and fresh... and kind of forgettable. The Canadian gave an exasperated sigh, putting his crooked glasses in place. "I'm Matt. Matthew. Matthieu. Whatever..."

"Mattie?" proposed Alfred with an overconfident smirk on his face, one that was used to success and luxury.

"Only if I can call you Al, man."

"Then Mattie it is!" exclaimed the delighted American, standing up and brushing the dust off his pants. The intellectual, being as punctual as he was, knew that detention time was up. Time to part, bye-bye. A smile on his face as he strode out of the classroom, the Canadian just watched him go. Then, looked down to the book the other had forgotten, he smirked mischievously.

What?

It was a good excuse.


End file.
